The five stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. (Elizabeth Kubler-Ross via Wikipedia)
That night all the members of the community raised their voices and wept aloud. 2 All the Israelites grumbled against Moses and Aaron, and the whole assembly said to them, “If only we had died in Egypt! Or in this wilderness! 3 Why is the Lord bringing us to this land only to let us fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be taken as plunder. Wouldn’t it be better for us to go back to Egypt?” 4 And they said to each other, “We should choose a leader and go back to Egypt.” (Numbers 14: 1-4)
Its been a hard week in church-land.
I had news this week of 4 churches in our area facing budget shortfalls that will likely mean that they will need to make some really hard decisions about what Ministry looks like for them. This isn’t all that unusual, right? We’ve seen, since the Pandemic lockdowns, that many churches aren’t able to stay afloat anymore. My personal belief is that the Pandemic just sped up the process that was inevitable.
Regardless, this an huge loss to those communities and to the communities they serve.
The expression of their loss varies between communities and between people. However, there is this nostalgic longing for ‘the way things were’. “We need to get young people back to the church”, “Our minister isn’t trained in the same way that Rev. So and So was 40 years ago. Now HE could inspire a congregation”. “If only we sang the old hymns like we used to”. And so on and so on.
I could continue. I know you’ve all heard these things. Maybe you’ve even said some of them. I have, I’ll confess. For a long time I really believed that the solution to church decline was attracting a younger generation to worship. Unfortunately, I think that ship has sailed. My children, who ARE young adults, tell me that when they are in worship they’re considered an oddity. They also get kind of pounced on and held out as the golden ring that will prevent that congregation from closing. But I digress.
But really, there is this tendency to want to go “back to the way things were”. In the church world it would be doing things like we did in the 60s and 70s, when Sunday Schools were busting the seams of the building and every family went somewhere to worship on Sunday morning. I was born in 1964 so I’m a product of that. The predictability, the sameness of the week was comforting. Easy. It was nice to be part of the socially accepted norm. We never considered the discomfort of those who fell outside of the norm; they were expected to comply with us, not us accommodating them, right? I’m of the generation where “opening exercises” at our public schools including saying the Lord’s Prayer and often a reading from the Christian Bible.
This decline in church adherence; this shift from being the social norm maybe, just maybe might be a good thing. It is for me, right? Because what it means for me is that the people I see on Sunday morning are people that are choosing to come. Choosing to be part of the community. Choosing to listen to listen to our old old stories, sing the old (and newish) hymns, and yes, even to listen to me preach. It may be just a remnant of what happened in the 70s. But the remnant is valuable and is hopeful.
And also may not last for very much longer.
Last week, because of the heat wave, I made the decision to move worship into the Hall instead of the Sanctuary. When I had been in the sanctuary the day before, the temperature was 31degrees. I wouldn’t have lasted. The next morning the idea was floated by the choir and they agreed to the move and set everything up for me. I was thrilled. And for the most part so were many others. We had a full house last Sunday and that would’ve heated up the Sanctuary even more. The Hall, with its new heat pumps, was a comfortably cool 24 degrees.
But there also was some anger. “The Sanctuary isn’t that hot”. “I prefer worship in the Sanctuary”. “Now So and So is cold because they came dressed for the Sanctuary”. “I absolutely don’t think that was a good decision, Lynne”. I handed out my prayer shawls and inwardly cringed. Its hard to go into worship with criticism echoing in your ears. But as is my habit, my drive home gave me time to reflect and consider what happened; and honestly, I don’t think it was the move into the Hall that was the problem.
I think it was the change.
And I remembered that every change involves loss. And every loss involves grief. And part of grief is anger.
And the unfortunate truth is that there is not a single United Church in Canada that is exempt from loss or change. So we have a whole church in the throes of grief. And sometimes grief involves anger.
I really don’t know what else to say about this, except that if you find yourself feeling angry at something that’s happening in your faith community, or if you find yourself wishing for the “good old days” when things seemed easier, maybe just take a little time and also remember that you’re grieving. It is hard. But together, we can do hard things. I really do believe that.
Blessings today my dear friends, and remember that in the middle of grief, you are also Loved.
~Rev. Lynne
First I thought by the title that the new heat pump broke down!
My guess is, like hearing amplification, anything new disrupts what we are used to and, actually, austerity and even uncomfortableness have been part of worship for many. It is what we are used to. Embracing technology change, or any change, even positive, is difficult for many. The transition takes time.
Perhaps we can find a way to push the hall air into the sanctuary on Sundays in the summer.